I once read something about man being very similar to a moth and flame. The flame is hot, and yet the moth strives to be engulfed. The difference though, between man and moth, is that man knows his peril and yet he tumbles into the flame with equal zeal.
The flame resembles everything the man feels he needs or wants. He chases it, not gracefully, but rather like a street fighter careening recklessly through a glass window. The man knows not what he chases, only that there is emptiness inside of him.